


Taste

by wingedcatninja



Series: SPN Kink Bingo 2019 [24]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Coitus, Cunnilingus, Dean Winchester - Freeform, F/M, Femdom, Fluffy Smut, More angst, Mutual Pining, SPN Dean Bingo 2019, Smut, Song Challenge, Sub Dean, Sub!Dean, Supernatural Kink Bingo 2019, Unprotected Sex, just a sprinkle of fluff, smluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-08 06:22:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21795203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wingedcatninja/pseuds/wingedcatninja
Summary: Two dumbasses who are ‘just friends’ get snowed in and there is only one bed. Friends to lovers.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/You
Series: SPN Kink Bingo 2019 [24]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1242605
Comments: 16
Kudos: 65





	Taste

**Author's Note:**

> Written for SPN Kink Bingo (way late), SPN Dean Bingo, and [@atc74](https://atc74.tumblr.com/) Angelina’s Duets Challenge Reboot. For the duets challenge, I chose the song [Starving by Hailee Steinfeld & Grey, feat. Zedd](https://youtu.be/2m5FQE8-J-w) as my prompt. Aesthetic made by me, top and middle right photos by [Alexander Krivitskiy](https://unsplash.com/@krivitskiy). 
> 
> Square Filled (@spnkinkbingo): Cunnilingus  
Square Filled (@spndeanbingo): Motel Room 
> 
> I apologize for nothing.

The first time he saw her, he was lost. She walked into that drug store as if she owned it. Their eyes met for just a second and he felt like he had been kicked in the gut. He was already done, but he lingered by the magazine rack just to be able to watch her a little longer. 

The way she moved; graceful, like a dancer. Or a fighter. She commanded the room without even trying. Dean had no doubt that she was fully aware of his presence. Still, he lingered, waiting for her to finish her purchase. Only after she had disappeared from view did he approach the register. 

From the cashier, he found out her name, that she had moved to town a week ago, and that she worked at the library. Dean suddenly got the urge to read a book. Exiting the shop, his gaze automatically went the way she had gone earlier. She was gone, of course, and something inside Dean wilted a little. 

He fully intended to go straight home when he got into the car. Somehow, he ended up in the library parking lot, staring at the closed door as if willing her to come outside to let him see her again.

Dean resisted going inside that time. He went back though, having offered a perplexed Sam to return his books. He had almost had to tear the books from Sam’s hands, his brother suspecting he was up to nothing good. It was all worth it for the small smile she gave him when he slid the books onto the counter to return them.

So many words flitted through his mind, yet none made it past his lips. Still silent, he returned her smile after she checked the books in, and left. The whole way home in the car, Dean berated himself. He was supposed to be Mr. Smooth with the ladies, and here he was, tongue-tied like a teenager with his first crush. It was just that when he looked into her eyes all the words sounded small and unimportant compared to her. She was so out of his league, he had no idea why he was even still thinking about her.

He went on jobs with Sam, but suddenly the women he ran into in anonymous bars in anonymous towns seemed...less. None of them compared to her, so what was the point. At least Sam never went with him to the bars anymore, so he was spared the comments and teasing. 

Whenever they were home, Dean found some excuse to go by the library. Almost two months went by before he actually spoke to her. The sound of her voice - soft, like silk, caressing his ears - caused a whole zoo of animals to do flips in his stomach. The way she looked at him, her eyes mesmerized him, drawing him in until he was drowning.

A few words exchanged in greeting led to small talk that led to conversations and, eventually, to coffee at the diner. She revealed that she found his taste in books fascinating. Dean blushed, thinking of the demonology tomes and lore texts that he usually brought back. Somehow, he managed to change the subject without seeming too conspicuous. He needed to keep her as far away from his life as possible. She was too good for someone like him. He wished he had the strength to stay away from her.

They became friends, having coffee, or sometimes lunch, together whenever Dean was home. He no longer needed the excuse of bringing his brother’s books back to see her. It became easier to think straight in her presence. He still sometimes drowned in her eyes, or got lost in her voice and missed her words. Whenever their hands accidentally touched, he felt as if a spark of electricity shot through him. He wanted her so badly it hurt sometimes, but he was fully aware that she was too good for him. It made him blind to the little signals she gave him.

Sometimes, she would look at him with this hooded look in her eyes, her tongue unconsciously flicking out to lick her lips. It made him feel hot and cold all at once, the need for her like a black hole in his gut. 

It was late November when she called him. It was certainly not the first time her image and name lit up his phone’s screen. The sight never failed to cause his heart to beat faster though. 

She was asking him for a ride. She had been somewhere, he did not care where, and had gotten as far as Wichita before the snow grounded all flights. 

“I’ll be right there,” he told her, waiting for her to hang up before he slid the phone into his pocket.

Giving Sam the first excuse that came to his mind, Dean was in the car and headed down the highway to Wichita ten minutes later. The snow was really coming down, but she needed him and that was all it took. He would get there or die trying.

Her smile when she saw him walking through the terminal at the airport made it all worth it. There was no way he could resist returning it. She hugged him, and he held on for dear life for those few precious seconds, savoring the feeling of her body pressed against his.

“Thank you! You’re a literal lifesaver, Dean Winchester,” she exclaimed, looking up at him with such genuine gratitude that he felt blessed.

He carried her bag, helped her into the car, and even let her choose the music once they were on the road. She talked animatedly about whatever thing she had traveled to. Dean listened to her voice, letting it wash over him like cool water on a hot summer day. 

When the music on the radio was interrupted by an emergency broadcast, she insisted they stop at the nearest motel. He immediately began keeping an eye out on the side of the road for a sign.

They barely made it, the car slipping across the slick road. Thanks to the weather, the motel was packed with stranded travelers. No amount of persuasion or threats would change the fact that there was only a single vacant room. Heart in his throat, Dean paid and swiped the key cards from the counter. 

When he tried to explain, to apologize for his inability to get her her own room, she brushed it aside. It did nothing for his feeling of inadequacy, but if she was all right with sharing a room, he would try to be too. Then they entered the room.

“I’ll take the couch,” Dean heard himself say, looking at the single queen-sized bed in dismay.

When she failed to respond, he wanted to sink through the floor. She seemed to be taking it in stride, setting her bag down and inspecting the room. She had just sat down on the edge of the bed when the lights flickered and went out. 

Dean’s first instinct was to use his other senses. Was it unusually cold? Did it smell like sulfur or ozone? In two heartbeats, he had determined that it was probably just a blackout due to the weather. Pulling his penlight from his pocket, he flicked it on and swept it across the room. 

She blinked against the light. With the snowstorm outside, no light filtered in through the window from the street or even the parking lot. The narrow beam in Dean’s hand was unnaturally bright in the darkness. He quickly pointed it away from her face, the light enough for him to find his way across the room from where he had been by the door. 

“You ok?” He chided himself silently for sounding so concerned. It was only a blackout.

She chuckled, a bit nervously to Dean’s ears, and told him she was fine. Reluctantly, he left her while he rummaged around the room. Since he had only set out to pick her up from the airport, he had not packed the usual supplies he would have brought for a hunt. Luckily there was a storm lamp in the closet and he soon had it set up. It shed more light than his little penlight. Unfortunately, the sharp bluish-white light made every flaw and stain in the room seem to stand out all the clearer. 

In the same closet Dean also found extra blankets and he brought them all over to her. The motel was not exactly well insulated and the cold from outside had already started creeping in. She gratefully wrapped herself in the blankets, her back against the headboard. Then she refused to back down until Dean sat down next to her and shared them. 

When she snuggled into his side, he awkwardly wrapped his arm around her shoulders. He told himself it was only to share body heat, but his body refused to listen. He felt his heart racing in his chest. The scent of her all around him made his head spin and his jeans felt too tight. With her body pressed right up against his, he was helpless in the face of his emotions.

Through the sound of the blood rushing in his ears, he heard her voice. Somehow, he managed to respond in a coherent way. They talked, but he had no idea what about. Eventually, the conversation trailed off until they were sitting together in silence. She rested her head on his chest, feeling so small and fragile in his arms. 

When he felt her hand on his thigh, he thought she must have fallen asleep. He sat stock still, afraid of waking her. Then her hand moved, sliding slowly up his leg. Dean’s mind raced. He should say something. He should stop her. He should get up, get them both settled for the night. Get her away from him.

But he was paralyzed by what was happening; she had been part of his dreams for too long. Her fingers brushed his cock through the jeans. It was such a light touch, it might have been accidental. Her whole hand palming his cock through the pants was certainly not accidental though. Dean let out a small gasp at the feeling and immediately wanted to bite his tongue. 

She ignored his reaction, continuing her exploration. While her fingers traced the outline of his cock where it lay against his thigh, her head tilted back just enough to let her lips brush against his throat. 

Dean’s mind buzzed with all the things he should say, but none of them made it past his lips. He knew it was wrong. If he gave in, he would hate himself after. It could only ever be a one-time thing. He could not, would not, be responsible for her getting hurt, or killed, because of him. There was no other way it could end. Experience had taught him that.

And yet, he did nothing. He said nothing. He just sat there and let her do what she wanted. Because he was weak. The universe did not exist where he would deny her anything she wanted. His body responded to her touch, his cock straining against the denim. Goosebumps erupted where her lips touched him, and not from the cold. It was, in fact, getting quite heated under the blankets that covered them both.

While Dean sat paralyzed, she slid her body across his until she was straddling his hips, his cock uncomfortably trapped between them. Her lips traveled from his throat to his jaw, until, finally, their lips met. His eyes closed to avoid the truth staring him in the face. He melted into her touch. He had dared fantasize on lonely nights, alone in his room, but this was so much better. 

He finally managed to move, his hands coming up to cradle her face, to feel her soft skin beneath his calloused fingers. The breathy moan that escaped him drowned in her mouth. Nothing mattered anymore. There was nothing but her. She was his whole world. Her tongue licked into his mouth, met him half-way. The soft caress of her tongue on his drove him wild. He felt her hands fumble with his belt, then his jeans, until finally, he felt her bare hands against his skin. Her fingers freed his cock from its prison, wrapping around his shaft. 

She swallowed every sound he made, accepting them as the tribute she was due. When she finally let his mouth go, the sound of his heavy breaths were loud in the silence of the room. Having let go of all thought, his lips latched onto the soft skin on the side of her neck, mouthing at it, tasting her. Her soft sighs of pleasure spurred him on, pulled him deeper under her spell. 

Under the direction of her hands, he shifted until he was on his back. She had managed to get him naked without ever coming out from under the blankets. Not that Dean would have noticed; desire burned inside him like a fire, keeping him warm enough. When he felt her pussy on his cock, sliding languidly along his shaft, an almost pained moan fell from his lips.

He wanted her so badly his body ached. At the same time, he knew: she was in charge. She had done nothing to enforce her dominance over him. It was just there. Natural and inescapable. Dean would let her do whatever she wanted to him. 

She slid up his body, keeping one of the blankets draped over her shoulders like a cloak. Dean’s hands slid across her skin in a caress as she moved. When her pussy hovered over his face, he breathed a soft _‘please’_, desperate to taste her.

She lowered herself to his face. Breathing her in, he splayed his hands across her lower back to help steady her. His tongue swiped along her slit while he worked his way deeper. He felt her body tense above him, her sighs muffled by her body. She trembled; he felt her muscles tense in anticipation. One hand gripped a fistful of his hair while she rubbed her pussy on his face. Dean held his tongue out for her, and she rode it while holding his head in place. His lips latched onto her clit, sucking on it. His tongue flicked over it, then explored the area around it, searching for her most sensitive spot. He quickly found it, focusing his efforts on bringing her pleasure. Her moans were all the reward he needed or wanted. 

When she came, her body shaking above him, covering his face with her slick, his cock lay hot and heavy against his belly, pulsing in time with his heartbeats. He was so hard it hurt. And yet, had she chosen to go to sleep after her orgasm, he would have said nothing. 

She slid back down his body until her pussy was once again perfectly slotted against his cock. Her soft warm tongue licked her own slick off his lips before she captured them in a languid kiss. Her tongue caressed his, explored his mouth, drove him mad until she finally let him go. He breathed hard, his eyes seeking hers where she lay on top of him. 

He had no idea what he hoped to find there, but the pure love that he did find made his chest hurt. Their eyes only met for a moment before she dipped her head to nibble at his jaw and down the side of his neck. When she sucked on the spot by his ear, his hips bucked up against her involuntarily. She shifted just enough that the tip of his cock was right at her entrance, then stilled like that, waiting. 

Dean tried to stay still, he tried so hard, but the feeling of her warm, wet pussy against his cock was too much. He rolled his hips, pushing inside just a couple of inches. She breathed a soft moan at the feeling. Dean took it as encouragement, wrapping his arms around her and pushing his cock inside. He went slowly, almost too slowly. His entire body shook with the effort when what he really wanted to do was pound into her until she screamed his name. 

When he was finally all the way inside her, she kissed him again. This time it was deep, demanding, full of need. Dean responded, kissing her back while he thrust into her. She met his thrusts, their bodies rocking together, finding a rhythm. Their need for air forced them to break the kiss, their foreheads pressing together while they gasped, sharing their breaths. 

Dean’s head fell back, his eyes rolling back in his head, the pleasure almost too much. Her name dripped from his lips like a prayer. She was his Goddess and he needed to worship her. He felt her lips at his throat, her face buried in the crook of his neck. Her teeth grazed his skin, making his hips snap against her. Her breath was hot against his damp skin, brushing his ear light as a feather. 

“I love you.”

Dean’s heart exploded. With a cry of her name on his lips, he came, hard. His body shook under her, white lightning filled his vision, his breath caught in his throat. 

When he finally came to, she was still on top of him, her lips brushing his skin while she whispered praise right by his ear. One of her hands was caressing his face, the other combing soothingly through his sweat-damp hair. 

She seemed to sense that he was aware again, her head lifting to let her look into his eyes. Dean only managed a brief moment before his eyes slid away from hers. He moved her off him as gently as he could and sat up on the edge of the bed. The chill of the floor against his bare feet was nothing compared to the cold air of the room that washed over his sweaty skin. He shivered but did nothing to cover himself. He deserved whatever discomfort he felt. He deserved worse. 

When he felt her hand on his shoulder, he wanted to flinch away from her touch. He forced himself to stay still but gave no response. He heard her draw in breath to speak and pre-empted her.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let that happen,” his voice came out so much harsher than he meant it to, but he stopped himself from apologizing. 

Better she think that he was just an asshole. It would make it easier when he left. Her silence pierced him like an arrow through the heart. Shrugging her hand off his shoulder, he stood up and started to get dressed in the harsh light of the storm lamp. He pointedly did not look at her, even out of the corner of his eye. He heard the rustle of blankets and hoped it was her getting comfortable on the bed. He put on an extra shirt, then grabbed the blanket that was draped over the back of the couch and wrapped himself in it when he lay down to sleep. The storm was still going strong outside. His car, as much as it had always taken care of him, would get nowhere in that kind of weather.

The silence in the room was deafening. Dean knew he would not sleep a wink that night. He hoped she did, although he doubted it. They should talk, but Dean had no idea what to say to her. There were words filling his head, but none of them connected into sentences. Expressing his emotions had always been difficult for him, especially when it came to caring for someone. Hell, he had known Sam his whole life and he still did not think his brother knew just how deeply Dean cared about him. The problem here was that he loved her so much it hurt. And from what she had confessed only moments before, she loved him too. 

Dean honestly did not know why anyone would love someone as broken as he was. He was a hot mess, no two ways about it. He may be good at hiding it, most of the time at least, but his issues ran deep. He had no right to come into her life and mess that up too. She deserved better.

On and on Dean’s thoughts ran through his head. The self-loathing became deeper with each passing moment. He was so deep in his head that he missed the soft sound of bare feet shuffling across the stained motel carpet. He missed the silent rustle of blankets when she knelt by the couch. That was why the feeling of her hand on his arm made him gasp in surprise.

“Dean?” Her voice was only a whisper, but the sound of her saying his name made the ache in his chest worse.

He stayed stubbornly silent. She had no business loving him. His usual defense of pushing people away was in full force.

“Dean, please, don’t do this.” He could hear the strain in her voice.

Against his better judgment, Dean shifted on the couch, turning to face her. The sight of the tear tracks on her cheeks made him want to sink through the floor right into the ground.

“I don’t know what’s made you this way, Dean, but it doesn’t matter. I meant what I said. And I know that you feel it too. What just happened between us, that was proof enough, but I’ve known for a while.” Her voice was still only a whisper, but it filled Dean’s mind, pushing the negative thoughts back, at least a little bit.

“If you knew, why didn’t you say anything?” His voice was hoarse, and his tone still harsher than he meant for it to be.

“I tried, you idiot. I tried so hard, but you were hell-bent on keeping me at arm’s length,” she paused to take a breath, calm herself. “Short of coming right out and saying it, I did everything humanly possible to let you know I felt the same. But you were so wrapped up in trying to keep me away from…” she stopped and took a deep breath, “from what you and your brother do,” she gave him a pointed look that felt like a punch to the gut to Dean, “that you just refused to see it.”

“You...you know?” Dean felt like the floor had disappeared from under him, leaving him hanging above an abyss.

“I’m not stupid, Dean. I figured it out a long time ago and talking to your brother only confirmed my suspicions. You two aren’t nearly as circumspect as you like to think.” Her lips quirked up into a wry smile.

Dean pulled a hand out from under the blanket and wrapped his fingers around her hand that still rested on his arm. 

“I can’t be responsible for you getting hurt, or…,” his voice broke, “or killed, because of me.” 

“You’re not. I’m an adult, and responsible for my own choices and actions.” She looked him straight in the eyes.

Dean saw the steel there, the determination, and the tiniest spark of hope flared to life in his soul. He resisted the urge to squash it immediately.

“You really meant it?” His voice cracked a little, betraying just how difficult it was for him to give in.

She leaned in and placed a soft kiss on his lips, her free hand coming up to caress his face.

“I really meant it.” The words were a breath that fanned over his skin. “Come back to bed. Please.”

Dean, once more under her spell, let her pull him up off the couch and over to the bed. She undressed him, again, and he joined her under the many blankets. Her body molded to his, her head resting on his chest. Dean allowed himself to think that maybe, just maybe, he could have this after all.


End file.
